When I shared my baby’s name online, I never expected the reaction to turn so vicious. What I thought would be a sweet announcement quickly exploded into thousands of comments telling me I had ruined my child’s life. Strangers called the name “cruel,” “selfish,” and even an “abomination.” Some went further, warning me that the name is actually illegal in several countries and should never be given to a child. But despite the backlash, I haven’t changed my mind for a second.
My son’s name is Lucifer. Yes, that Lucifer. The moment people see it, they stop reading anything else and start attacking. They assume it’s about rebellion, shock value, or trying to be edgy. They accuse me of trying to curse my own child or set him up for ridicule. What they don’t ask is why I chose it or what it actually means to me. They just decide it’s wrong and demand I fix it.
The truth is, the name didn’t come from wanting attention. It came from its original meaning. Lucifer translates to “light-bringer” or “morning star.” Long before it was turned into a symbol of evil, it represented knowledge, illumination, and strength. That meaning matters to me. I didn’t name my son after a villain. I named him after light, resilience, and the idea of questioning the world instead of blindly accepting it.
Yes, I know the laws. In countries like New Zealand, Iceland, and parts of Europe, the name is banned because it’s considered harmful or offensive to the child. People online throw that fact at me like a weapon, telling me governments agree I’m a bad parent. But laws change with culture, and culture is shaped by fear just as much as reason. Where I live, the name is legal, and more importantly, it’s my choice as a parent.
What hurts the most isn’t the criticism. It’s the hypocrisy. People claim they’re worried about my baby’s future, yet they’re the ones leaving hateful comments, threatening messages, and insults under a photo of a smiling infant. They say they want to protect him while actively trying to shame his existence. If my child ever struggles with his name, it won’t be because of the name itself — it will be because of how people choose to react to it.
I look at my son and see joy, innocence, and warmth. He laughs easily. He reaches for people. He is loved deeply. No name can erase that. If anything, I hope he grows up strong enough to own his identity without fear, to understand that meaning is not defined by strangers on the internet. I didn’t name him to provoke outrage. I named him because to me, Lucifer means light — and my son brought light back into my life the moment he was born.
